The Ransom Theory of Redemption
by Ramanga
Summary: Ex-alliance Commander, Taryn Shepard has been living in hiding for the past three years and on Omega no less. To get her old life back, Shepard will do anything regardless of the consequences.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

 **An Eye for an Eye**

Chaos interrupted the normal hustle and bustle of Omega's marketplace as Aria's goons charged after a certain misfit. That certain misfit was Taryn Shepard, the famed ex-Alliance Navy Commander. Who was now slumming it with terrorist, slavers, and pirates and naturally they hated her guts.

They even shouted some profanities at her as she tore through the marketplace, knocking over the odd few who were unfortunate enough to get in her way. Shepard shot a glance over her shoulder; Aria's goons mowed through the crowd, running down anyone who got in their way and they looked like they enjoyed it too.

She felt a pang of empathy towards the not-so-innocent bystander who unexpectedly received a punch to the temple from a mean looking batarian. Then she suddenly felt a shiver run down her spine as she realised the same batarian was gaining on her.

Sooner or later they were going to catch her, so Shepard had to act fast if she wanted it to be the latter. Fortunately, she had her wits handy and an Omni-tool.

Shepard sped up her momentum to her breaking point. Trying her hardest to multitask, she started priming her Omni-tool to overload – snapping her head between her tool and the path in front of her – not wanting to trip and fall prey to the thugs chasing her. However, her Omni-tool took far longer priming up than usual.

She mentally cursed the vendor who sold the tool to her. "The best on the black market, my ass," Shepard thought sourly.

Her only option was to push on. Luckily, there was a fast transit near the entrance of the nightclub, Afterlife, and that was her best chance to weasel herself out of this situation. Stealing a skycar would be a walk in the park; a good wallop of Omni-gel would do the trick. However, Shepard wasn't the best shuttle pilot, so crashing and burning was a possible outcome.

The beep from Shepard's Omni-tool pushed that thought to the back of her mind. The corners of her lips curled upwards. Swiftly, she swung her arm around, forcing her body to do a 180, and released the bolt of electricity that had built up from her Omni-tool.

Shepard landed hard causing her to fall onto her behind and, surprisingly, the shot struck home. The electricity surged through the batarian's body, lightening him up like a Christmas tree. It wasn't a millisecond when the overload power chained from the batarian to his friends.

Shepard grinned madly at the scene in front of her. The goons seized up; clenching their jaws, their fine hairs stood on end, the smell of smoke was overpowering. She had seen vids of lightning striking people, but it didn't beat witnessing the phenomenon up-close.

Volts of crippling electricity running through their bodies seemed to do the trick as Aria's henchmen collapsed in a heap – moaning and rolling in pain on the floor like a crude symphony.

"Woah," Shepard breathed – her mad grin still stuck on her face.

She peeled herself off the ground with ease. After dusting herself off, Shepard strode over to the smoking pile of trash. She cooed softly at the 'sleeping beauties' before slamming her heel down on each of their faces, rendering them unconscious so she could search them without being rudely interrupted.

Sadly, Shepard didn't loot much. A credit chit and a small ceremonial dagger were all she found. Cocking her head in curiosity, she examined the latter. It didn't look expensive; it was only a simple blade with a wooden hilt. Shepard assumed it was sentimental to the batarian she stole it from, due to the batarian words engraved on the blade.

Shepard didn't find any other weapons on the thugs which was strange especially for Omega. _Everyone_ carried a gun on Omega. She guessed it was a good thing; it meant the boss didn't want her dead – yet.

"So was she going to have me maimed instead?" Shepard questioned no one in particular. "Hmph, better than being dead." She concluded with a shrug before shoving the dagger and credit chit into her back pocket.

Nonchalantly, Shepard strolled away from the scene – disregarding judging eyes on her back. She had no care for their opinion. She would do anything to get off this damn rock and would have no regrets. She was sick of it.

The doors leading out of the marketplace opened with a swoosh, allowing her to pass through. The first thing to catch Shepard's eyes was the nightclub's bright red neon sign which never failed to give her a headache.

As Shepard rubbed her temples in annoyance, she briskly walked straight ahead towards the fast transit deport. After stealing a skycar, she was hoping she could keep a low profile while trying to find a ticket off this asteroid.

When the fast transit deport caught Shepard's eyes, her face brightened up. However, Shepard quickly mentally kicked herself. She wouldn't allow herself to get her hopes up, but she couldn't help feeling a little relieved after every step she took.

However, Shepard stopped dead in her tracks when a menacing war cry rumbled through the station. She snapped her head towards the war cry's point of origin. Her heart leapt to her throat.

Shepard swallowed hard. She didn't think this day would get any worse, as she had a staring contest with Aria's trophy krogan, Patriarch. Who was bellowing about something? Shepard mentally shrugged, he was probably shouting about the size of his quads.

After he finished boasting, the old crime lord charged with a roar.

Anyone else would run at the sight of the krogan, but not Shepard. She held her ground and gritted her teeth in anticipation as a cold sweat ran down her back.

It wasn't long before Patriarch was only a few inches in front of Shepard and she immediately regretted keeping her ground. Shepard tried to swerve around Patriarch, but the krogan swung his meaty arm around and smacked her square in the face.

Shepard stumbled but quickly regained her balance. However, the krogan charged again and slammed his body into Shepard before she could defend herself.

The air felt so cool against her body as she flew through it – it was like a dream. She was an extinct bird of prey – a bald eagle – soaring through the sky, calculating and alert for her next meal. She was free.

Bang! Pain rippled through her body. Clenching her teeth, she crashed into the hard floor, and she snapped back into reality.

She gasped for air. Shepard's head felt groggy and the pain in her chest – she couldn't describe it. It hurt when she breathed which forced her to take shallow breaths. A cracked rib or two, possibly. She inhaled deeply and blocked out some of the pain. She had to keep her mind clear.

Her head throbbed as she lifted herself off of the floor. Shepard struggled to keep her balance at first, but after her dizziness subsided, she stood firm, all the while trying to keep a wooden face.

"Hah! Finally! A real opponent worthy of a fight." The krogan boomed eagerly – smacking his over-sized fist into his equally over-sized hand.

Shepard wasn't sure if it was her headache or Patriarch that made her feel queasy. All she knew was that if she suffered another hit like before it was unlikely she would get back up again. Shepard kept her calm. She wouldn't let herself become panicked.

Analysing her surroundings, she noted her opponent was five meters in front of her – give or take. A gun would be useful. However, she left all her gear in her apartment. Even so, a pistol wouldn't help her much against a charging krogan. Although, armour would have saved her a helluva lot of pain.

So what could she do? Dodge until he grew tired? No, eventually he would end up wiping the floor with her. Wait! A switch clicked in Shepard's brain. She still had that dagger in her back pocket. It wasn't much, but she had to make do with what she had.

She smirked as she subtly reached into her back pocket. "I _am_ an N7 for a reason," Shepard stated – the words rolling off her cocksure tongue.

Once an N7, always an N7.

Patriarch growled. Or laughed, it was hard to tell. Then he abruptly started to charge towards Shepard for the third time today. She couldn't say she was startled.

Shepard acted swiftly, first, whipping out the dagger. Then she quickly jumped to the side as he charged past. The sudden movements jarred her ribs, but she was mostly unscathed. She swerved around. Shepard grimaced from the action and unconsciously supported her ribs with her free hand. She knew she wouldn't last long in her condition; she needed to finish this and fast!

Unfortunately, Patriarch wasn't letting up. However, he was too close to Shepard to charge. So instead he threw some wicked punches and Shepard somehow managed to duck and dodge all of them.

Any other day, Shepard would have thrown a few punches of her own. However, she couldn't let the krogan get a punch in. She had already tasted one of his hits; another could knock her out or worse, kill her. That was not something she could risk. So instead she waited for an opening.

As luck would have it, she didn't have to endure any longer; the krogan lifted his head high. Shepard knew what he was going to do next – he was as predictable as the next krogan. As he brought his head down hard, Shepard thrust the dagger into his left beady dear-like eye with a sickening squelch.

It didn't stop the krogan's head from crashing into her own, though. As their heads collided, Shepard heard an ear-splitting crack instantaneously followed by a sharp pain originating from her nose. She felt a weakness in her knees. It was a strange feeling of fatigue. She tried her hardest to stay upright, but a powerful jab to her gut obliterated her efforts.

Then she was engulfed in darkness.

 **TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

 **What's Over the Rainbow?**

Afterlife's VIP nightclub was jampacked with all sorts of characters; most were dancing lively. The other patrons were sat on the sideline chit-chatting and drinking. Nezz's job was to blend in and keep an eye out for trouble, while his partner, Quintus, collected important information from the dead drop.

The duo was hoping it was the last bit of information they needed to reap a large reward from the Shadow Broker, which would make this their last job together. Since Quintus kept on insisting he's "too old," and rambling on about retiring to a garden world outside citadel space. Though, every time he mentioned his dream he had this forlorn look in his eye.

However, Nezz, who was at the prime age of fourteen, wanted to see the galaxy, and maybe one day venture beyond the milky way, like a true hero from the vids, but that dream was unlikely. Everyone who listens to his aspiration and ambitions told him so, and eventually, he began to tell himself the same.

The heroes in the vids were just fictional after all. Then he was saved by Quintus on Sur'Kesh, who pushed him and taught him to fight, use the stereotypes of his species and his disabilities to his advantage. He taught him that every day was an adventure.

This job was their final adventure and pulling off this job all depended on the reliability of their informant, who Nezz knew nothing about since their handler, a high ranking agent of the Shadow Broker, would not allow Nezz to be present during the briefing.

Six years of loyalty as a hireling did not change a thing. Maybe if Nezz worked another twenty years for the Broker, he might get the respect of an agent like Quintus, but he would be near the end of his life. Would it be worth it in the end? Salarians rarely lived past the age of forty, after all, and it was even more unlikely for Nezz.

Nezz sipped his alcoholic beverage and tried to stifle the disgust on his face as he drank the foul liquid, but he carried on drinking it as it would look odd if someone were not drinking at a nightclub.

The disgusting taste from his drink snapped Nezz back to the present, and he realised he wasn't paying attention to his surroundings. He quickly straightened up so he could look over the heads of the clubbers.

The only sight that interested Nezz was an asari dancer, who twirled and dipped her body in such ways than seemed impossible to Nezz. As he watched her routine, he felt an unfamiliar warm sensation in his gut. It was almost impossible to take his eyes off of her, and when he did, Nezz realised she seemed to have the entire clubs attention.

"Strange..." Nezz wondered out loud. He quickly shook that thought to the back of his mind, but it was replaced with a new worrying thought as he continued to look over the heads of the sea of clubbers. Where's Quintus?

He was starting to worry about Quintus. How long has he been gone for? It shouldn't have taken this long to collect the package. Nezz wanted to go and see if the old turian was alright, but Quintus' had ordered Nezz to keep a lookout for trouble.

 _Shit. What if the informer had sold them out and the dead drop was a trap._ Negative thoughts of Quintus dead on the piss and vomit-covered toilet floor flooded his mind.

He tried to shove his thoughts to the back of his mind, but they persistently pushed themselves to the forefront of his mind. His nagging thoughts soon forced Nezz to spring off of his barstool, and he sprinted towards the male toilets.

However, the suffocating sea of bodies significantly slowed his speed down to a crawl. It was near impossible to navigate the crowd without using the overhead signs and more often than not, Nezz bumped into the drunk patrons and caused some drinks to spill, which caused colourful language to follow him.

Barging passed the patrons didn't do much good for Nezz. Eventually, a pair of human hands firmly pushed him back into the grasp of another human. The human holding him had a poor grasp, and Nezz was able to break free after stunning him by connecting the back of his head with the human's nose.

Usually, he preformed that move with such force that he would have heard the sickening sound of a bone breaking. However, the deafening techno music of the night club soaked up other smaller sounds like a sponge.

Next, he quickly lunged at the human in front of him and feinted a punch to the face, which caused the human to flinch and raise his arms to protect his face. Instead, Nezz spun around the human, so he ended up facing his back and planted a foot between his legs. The human crumbled to his knees while clutching his crotch and vomited over several pairs of feet.

Nezz fled the flock of bodies before he became caught up in the club brawl behind him and moved swiftly into the male toilets. He skidded to a stop at the sight of Quintus knelt in a pool of blood slashing a dead batarian's face into ribbons with his talons. However, the batarian wasn't his only victim, encircling the old turian was six more bodies. Nezz could barely make out their species due to the brutality of their wounds.

Nezz's gaze drifted back to Quintus. The old turian had stopped brutalising the dead batarian and was hunched over the body. He didn't seem to notice Nezz was in the room. Despite his age, Quintus was a fit turian, but the unusual heavy breathing worried Nezz.

"Hey!" Nezz had to shout so his voice would reach Quintus over the excruciatingly loud techno music. Quintus looked over to Nezz, and his mandibles tightly flinched. "I know I didn't listen, and I'm sorry, but I was worried something had gone wrong." Quintus reached for something out of Nezz's sight and sprang from his knees and onto his feet and raised his gun, which was pointed directly at Nezz's face. Nezz went pale and quietly wished he stayed at his post.

"DUCK!"

"WHAT?!" Nezz screamed.

"GET THE FUCK DOWN!"

A tingling sensation surrounded Nezz's entire body as he dived to the ground. It was a familiar feeling that made him feel sick to his stomach and instead of hitting the ground, Nezz was thrown sideways into the long rectangular mirror that covered the wall above the long trough-like sink. The mirror shattered on impact and pain erupted along his back. Fortunately, a warm sensation wrapped around his body just before he crashed face-first into the trough-like sink and then into the ground.

Despite the last couple of impacts being painless, Nezz's body ached on the cold, wet floor. "Shit," Nezz hissed into the bathroom floor before he unclipped his Kessler pistol, inhaled deeply and, while stifling his cry of pain behind clenched teeth, rolled onto his back with his gun pointed in the direction of their attacker.

His eyes widened at the scene in front of him, Quintus was struggling to get a punch in as the asari dancer twirled around the old turian. She countered Quintus' brutal talon attack with a swift, precise kick to Quintus' legs. The old turian toppled onto his side with an audible 'oof,' but swung his head away before the asari dancer slammed her biotic fueled heel into the floor where Quintus's face was mere seconds before.

Nezz cringed as the tiles where her strike connected cracked. Quintus rolled onto all fours, leapt off of the floor and with a feral screech slashed his talons across the asari dancer's face. She stumbled backwards with her left hand over her wound, the old turian's attack didn't seem do much beside piss her off.

The asari dancer removed her now bloody hand from her face, and with a cry, she began a charge at Quintus with her pistol drawn and pointed at the old turian. Nezz didn't hesitate when he saw his opening, and as soon as she began to charge, Nezz shot five times at the asari dancer.

The first three bullets hit her in the chest but only seemed to stun her. The forth shattered her biotic barrier, but the fifth pierced her skin just below and to the right of her diaphragm, and she crumbled to the blood-soaked floor. She was lucky; the bullet just nicked her liver, and barely missed her kidney.

With relatively fast medical treatment, she had a good chance of surviving her injuries. Nezz hoped she would survive and recover her injuries, he didn't like to kill, nor did he want to become used to killing.

Nezz exhaled loudly and laid flat on his back for a moment. This was not how he thought this mission was going to go, but he was glad he didn't die on a disgusting toilet floor. The thought sent shivers down his aching spine.

"Wait... why I am still lying on the floor?" Nezz muttered to himself before his eyes widened with realisation and he bolted into a sitting position, despite his pain-racked back. "Ew, disgusting!" Nezz exclaimed as he sat shivering in disgust.

"Where is it! Spirits help me!" Quintus' cry drew Nezz's attention. The old turian was frantically searching the asari dancer's body and seemed to grow more frustrated after every second passed.

Nezz had an awful feeling aching deep in his bones, but he stumbled to his feet, clipped his pistol back to his waist and hobbled over to Quintus with care, so he didn't trip over any of the mutilated corpses or slipped in their blood. A moment later, he reached Quintus, and he placed his hand on the old turian's shoulder in hopes of comforting him.

Despite his efforts, a fuming Quintus spun around and roughly shoved Nezz backwards, which cause him to stumble and slip in the blood of Quintus' victims. Before Nezz fell, the old turian's talon finger wrapped around Nezz's shirt and violently tugged Nezz forward, so their faces were inches from each other.

Quintus' face was twisted with anger. "How dare you jeopardise the mission! If you listened to me! If you stayed at your post, we would-"

"Be in the same fucking position!" Nezz interrupted the old turian with venom in his voice. He hated the fact Quintus believed it would have gone better without him. Nezz continued out loud, "It even could have been _worse_. You could have died, huh," Nezz aggressively push Quintus back, "Then where would we be?"

Quintus snarled as he shook his head, "Oh, don't you..." The old turian forcefully jabbed his sharp talon into Nezz's chest, which caused Nezz to take a step back "...dare accuse _me_ of this mess! If you stayed put that blue bitch wouldn't have distracted me by throwing you into that wall! I wouldn't have been overpowered, and she would have had her head dashed across the floor!"

Nezz could barely contain his anger, and he tried to contain it by screwing his hands into fists. "How about this; next time don't bother throwing up a barrier on me. I can take a couple of hits!"

The old turian's mandibles bobbed up and down as he laughed cruelly, "Oh come on you can barely take a hit to the gut, a hit like you nearly suffered today would have ended you! Stay out of it next time, since your body isn't doing you any favours!"

Nezz gritted his teeth. He couldn't hold his temper any more and unleashed a furious uppercut, which connected with Quintus' chin. The force of the action rattled the old turian as he stumbled backwards. Nezz stepped forwards and shoved Quintus back further. "Oh, fuck you, Quintus!" Nezz spat. "I have handled myself just fine so far!"

The old turian eyes swam with regret. "Come on, Nezz. You know I just want you to be safe. If something terrible happens to you...," Quintus paused as he tried to search his mind for an answer, "I-I don't know what I would do, but I know it would destroy me." Quintus placed a hand on Nezz's shoulder and declared with a warm smile, "You are like a son to me."

Nezz brushed Quintus' hand off of his shoulder with a shrug while avoiding Quintus' eyes. The old turian's statement caused Nezz's heart to ache. He never had a positive relationship with his father or anyone while living on Sur'Kesh. Everyone ignored him, and when they didn't, they shunned him. They abused him, just because he was looked different and thought differently. In Sur'Kesh, he was a freak.

However, when Quintus' saved him, Nezz felt hopeful again. He even came to think of Quintus as his father figure and more than anything he wanted the old turian to say the words 'you are like a son to be.' Though when he heard the words, his heart ached, because he knew it was a lie. Quintus was just like every salarian on Sur'Kesh. Quintus knew Nezz was a freak.

Nezz held his composure to the best of his ability, but Nezz nearly choked as he spoke. "Okay. We better get a move on before anyone else shows up." Nezz turned around ready to march away from Quintus, but then he remembered the asari dancer.

"Wait one moment," Nezz said with a monotone voice. He walked back over to the asari dancer and knelt beside her. He observed that her chest was slowly rising and falling and sighed with relief. However, he still applied a generous amount of omni-gel to the wound on her face as well as the bullet wound.

Nezz rose to his feet, and he felt a tremendous weight come off of his shoulders. He turned around and glanced at Quintus whose expression was grim, but he nodded in agreement and led them both to the exit. The silence between the two was excruciatingly painful, and Nezz hated every moment that passed.

Nezz began to wonder what might happen next; they didn't have the information, the dead drop was a trap, and they had no clue what happened to the informant. Everything had turned into a disaster, and Nezz had a feeling it was going to get worse before it would get better.

When they left the toilets, they found the night club had been abandoned. Even the bouncers were gone. Something shifty was happening. However, before they left the night club, Quintus stopped dead in his tracks.

"Spirits," Quintus whispered under his breath, quickly unclipped his pistol and pointed it at a purple-skinned asari, who was accompanied by a turian and an ugly looking batarian. Nezz unclipped his gun as well and followed Quintus' lead. The turian and the batarian held a rifle, but the asari welded a shotgun as well as an asari sword at her hip. Knowing an opponents weapon choice was a good way of predicting their tactics. The asari was no doubt going to fight up close to push Nezz and Quintus back while the turian and batarian provide supporting fire from afar.

Not bad.

The batarian looked quite smug like he believed he had them backed into a corner and the asari looked rather pissed off. The turian, however, kept his face clean of emotions and kept his rifle trained on Quintus.

From the corner of his eyes, Nezz glanced around for some potential cover. There wasn't much cover apart from the bar, but they could always topple over a table if they needed some makeshift cover.

"This doesn't need to be resolved by violence. We can talk instead." Quintus pleaded. Nezz raised an eyebrow. There was no way they were going to talk their way out of this sticky situation.

The asari released a low pitched growl from her throat, before she spoke with aggression, "After you murdered my men and critically injured my daughter, you want to talk." The asari body began to glow blue as her biotic powers where triggered. "Not a chance!"

The biotic power radiating from her body grew brighter before she released a powerful push from her hands, which tore Quintus off his feet, and his body smashed against the wall behind the bar.

Shocked, Nezz whipped his head around and aimed his gun at the crazy asari. However, it was at the last second when he noticed the crazy asari's turian henchmen with the butt of his rifle raised in his peripheral vision. Less than a second later, the butt of the turian' rifle connected to the side of Nezz's head with an ear-splitting crack.

Nezz had to look to the bright side; it was going to make one hell of a story later.

 **TBC**

* * *

A/N - Oof, gotta say this chapter was a nightmare to write, but I am really happy with how it turned out. Anyway, thanks for reading guys. I really hope you enjoyed and if you have any comments or suggestions, please let me know.


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